No Stone Unturned: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Eleven

by Julie Moffett

  The room fell deathly silent. Tears slid down my cheeks, and I swiped at them with my fingertips.

  Slash’s fingers slowly closed around the cross, now hidden inside his bandaged fist. He remained utterly still, his dark head bowed and his shoulders hunched forward. After a minute—maybe more—he reached around his neck and unfastened the gold cross of the sodalitium pianum. For what seemed like an eternity, it dangled between his fingers before he finally released it onto Father Armando’s coffee table. Then he carefully fastened his father’s cross around his neck.

  When it was secure, he rose and faced Father Armando.

  “Emilio,” he murmured. “I forgive you.”

  He stretched out his arms, and the two men embraced. I don’t know how long they stood like that, the man I loved and the only man who’d ever really been a father to him. As unconventional as it was, they were family. We were family.

  Despite all the hurt, pain and secrets that had come between us, there was still love here. The Holy Father had been right. Forgiveness could heal hearts. Maybe someday Slash would find peace in that.

  Maybe we all would find peace in that.

  Chapter Sixty

  Lexi

  Slash stood on the balcony of our hotel, gazing at the water below us. He’d taken me back to Salerno for our last night in Italy. It was the same hotel as before, the Hotel La Lucertola, the one built into the cliffs overlooking the sea.

  His hands rested on the rail, shoulders straight, his dark hair blowing in the breeze. Standing there alone, he was the perfect picture of isolation. The ocean crashed against the rocks of the cliffs beyond the balcony. The smell of salt and brine wafted into the room on the warm afternoon air. Until this trip to Italy, I’d never realized how important the sea was to him—how it connected him to his home here. Now, it connected me to him so he was no longer alone.

  I walked out onto the balcony and stood next to him, admiring the ocean. When he saw me, that sense of isolation vanished. Every time we were together, the pull between us got stronger and more resilient.

  “Is everything fixed for Gio’s wedding?” I asked.

  “It is. It’s amazing how fast things can move when the pope says he’ll look into the matter.”

  He pulled me into his arms, held me snugly. I leaned back against him as we both enjoyed the view, his chin resting on top of my head. “Looks like we’ll be returning to Sperlonga in a few months for Gio’s wedding.”

  “I can’t say I’m sorry about that,” I said. “I’ll get to see Nonna again, and finally meet your parents. Oh, jeez, I can’t even wrap my head around that yet. Will we see Tito, too? I’m sorry I missed him this time around.”

  “I’ll make sure we get together with him when we come back for the wedding. Did you know Tito was threatening to date you if I hadn’t made my move yet?”

  “Ha, ha. Did you tell him about our engagement?”

  “I did. He’s set to retire from the Swiss Guard soon.”

  “Life moves on.”

  “Si, it does.”

  A seagull screeched and circled above us. Suddenly it swooped down and skimmed its claws above the water, seemingly more interested in the simple pleasure of flying than fishing.

  “Salerno is such a beautiful place, and now it holds even more meaning for us,” I said. “Not to mention, we’re honorary residents.”

  “That we are, although I’ve yet to receive any hotel discounts.”

  I smiled, relaxing against the contours of his lean body. The clouds were beginning to show the first tinges of pink from the impending sunset. This time and space with him felt exactly right. A sense of contentment within me had been growing. It couldn’t sweep away all our problems, but they felt more distant and less substantial when we stood together like this.

  “I don’t know why, Slash, but the most transformative moments in my life keep happening near an ocean. Either it’s you or it’s an evolutionary thing.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, his hand warm against my cheek. “Either way, the next time we have a fight, I’m bringing you to the ocean.”

  I grinned. “I suppose there’s hope yet that I’ll embrace the sand, sun and salt someday. But I make no promises for suntan lotion, heat and oily beachgoers. Realistically, I don’t see that part happening.”

  “Little steps,” he said, and I could hear the amusement in his voice. “Progress can be gradual.”

  “True. For example, when I walked out onto the balcony just now and saw the sky, my first thought wasn’t ‘Look at that gorgeous turquoise sky.’ Instead, I was thinking how blue light scatters in short, small waves across the atmosphere in tiny molecules to create an illusion of a turquoise sky. Then, when I viewed the ocean, instead of simply enjoying the view, I found myself studying the wave motion and position of the moon overhead to determine if the tide was ebbing or receding. That seagull’s soaring over the waves made me think about how little discernment it has in regards to what it consumes. I mean, I’ve seen seagulls eating out of garbage cans.”

  He slid a hand down to the curve of my hip, resting it there. “I love how your mind works.”

  “Thank goodness,” I said with feeling. “I’ve spent my entire life looking at the world and trying to figure out how it works. It’s the main reason I’ve avoided people and relationships. People don’t make sense to me. Within a time span of fifteen minutes, someone can act both altruistically and selfishly. People’s moods are prone to change at random intervals, especially if feelings are involved. And don’t get me started about predicting the actions of people in a relationship. It’s totally confusing.”

  A rumble of laughter sounded in his chest, but he said nothing.

  I turned around in his arms so I could see his face. “But that day when we visited the cathedral in Salerno, I saw beauty and peace. Maybe not for the first time, but uniquely in the context of my own personal journey of working out the complexities of our relationship. I guess my point is, I don’t have to read music to enjoy the orchestra. Ever since I met you, I’ve become better equipped to feel a moment—like your strong arms around me right now. I can look at the water and feel relaxed, peaceful and loved. I think that’s why some people come to the ocean, despite the crowds, sand and salty water. I am never going to understand the speedos, though.”

  He stroked a hand down my ponytail. “I adore you, cara.”

  “Likewise.” I leaned my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

  “Slash, are you going to look for your mother?” I don’t know why I asked, other than I happen to be the queen of blurting out awkward things at the most inopportune times.

  The hand on my hair stilled and then lowered to rest on my shoulder. “I already have a mother. She’s the only mother who matters to me. My biological mother made her choice regarding me a long time ago, and now I’m making mine. So, no, I’m not going to look for her.”

  “I understand. I just wondered.”

  He released me, slipping off his sunglasses and hooking them on the front of his shirt. Sitting down in the balcony chair, he rested his elbows on his thighs and regarded me. “She didn’t want me then, so why would she want me now?”

  The expression on his face was so vulnerable and unguarded, I wanted to throw my arms around him and hold him tight. Instead, I answered him as honestly as I could.

  “People change,” I said. “I’m the perfect example of that. I’ve also discovered that sometimes we hurt the people we love, intentionally and unintentionally, for many reasons. It’s complicated.”

  “It’s always complicated.”

  “So I’ve discovered.” I turned and sat down in the chair next to him. He reached out to take my hand. We still had matching bandages, so we rested our fingertips against each other’s. “You’ll do what’s right for you.”

  “What’s right for us,” he
corrected.

  “For us,” I agreed.

  We sat in companionable silence until he shifted in his chair, bringing my fingers to his lips and kissing them. “So, cara, when do you want to get married?”

  I looked at him in surprise. “You’re thinking about the wedding?”

  “It’s hard not to. Between Nonna, your parents and my family, it will be hard to avoid discussions regarding our plans. Especially now that Gio’s wedding is on.”

  I glanced down at my engagement ring. “I guess you’re right. I don’t know. When do you want to have it?”

  “Whenever you’re ready.” His hand brushed down my hair. “Technically, I already feel as if our life together has begun.”

  “I feel that way, too, Slash.” That warm swell of contentment filled me again. “I’m not going to lie. I’m still nervous about the wedding—whatever we decide to do—but I’m not scared about the marriage. After this, I know together we can handle anything that life throws at us.”

  “Truer words have never been spoken.” He murmured something in Italian.

  “What did you say?” I asked.

  “I said you’re the only one for me. You always have been.” He stood again, pulling me to my feet, gently touching his forehead to mine. “And yet, why do I get the feeling you still want to tell me something?”

  Wow. He did know me well. “Because I just made a decision. I know it’s going to sound crazy, but given the fact the most important moments of my life seem to be happening near the ocean, I want to honeymoon near it. Are you okay with that?”

  He leaned back and searched my expression, as if he didn’t believe me. After a moment, he brushed my hair aside and whispered into my ear, “As long as you’re there, cara, I can’t think of a better place to be.”

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Cardinal Emilio Armando

  The hour was late in Italy, but it was early evening in America when Emilio picked up the phone and made the call. The phone rang several times before it was answered.

  “Hello?” a female voice answered.

  “It’s Emilio,” he said in English. “You’ve seen the news, I presume?”

  “I have.” She paused. “It brings back a lot of memories. I always knew he was a saint. Now it’s official.”

  “Yes, it is. I also wanted you to let you know that Nicolo has been told Cristian is his father.”

  There was a long silence. “I see. What does he know about me?”

  “Not much. Only that you brought him to the church in San Mauro, and you couldn’t keep him. He also knows that, aside from the church, you were the greatest love of Cristian’s life. I told him the truth about his father without betraying my vows to you. He deserved to know.”

  He was afraid she’d be angry, but instead she sighed. “Perhaps he did. He looks so much like Cristian, it takes my breath away.”

  “It is a bit unnerving how alike they are. He’s even more like his father on the inside. Brilliant, complicated, fearless, compassionate and prone to feelings of guilt.”

  “Yet he chose computers over the church,” she said. “That fascinates me. Perhaps there is more of me in him than I realized.”

  “He chose both,” he corrected. “But unlike Cristian, he felt the greater opportunity for protecting others lay elsewhere. I am sure if he knew your role in facilitating that move, he would be grateful.”

  The photo of Cristian on the wall above the candlelit shrine caught his eye. Although his friend’s face was serious, it seemed as though his eyes were smiling, benevolent and always watching. “Nicolo is his own man. A good man. He’s found the love of his life. His fiancée suits him well, and is an excellent match. They’re quite the couple when it comes to saving people. When you have a moment, check out the online newspaper in Salerno. You’ll enjoy seeing what he’s been up to in Italy.”

  “I’m at my desk,” she said. “Give me a moment.”

  While he waited for her connect with the local Salerno news, he heard another phone ring in the background before it was silenced. He wondered how her research was going, and reminded himself to ask, as the pope would expect a report.

  “I found it,” she said. “He and his fiancée saved a crowd of paradegoers and children during a city-wide celebration of the saints? Oh, yes, he’s truly his father’s son.”

  She fell quiet, presumably reading further. “They are calling them the Second Saviors of Salerno? Oh my God, the irony is indescribable. It’s like Cristian is up there in heaven, orchestrating this entire thing.”

  “Yes, it would have pleased him greatly,” Emilio said. “And yet, Nicolo is your son, too. You’ve spent your entire life working to save millions of people in the poorest countries around the world. None of us should be surprised at Nicolo’s passion for helping others. Which reminds me, how has the project been progressing? The pope’s blessing and offer of assistance remains, if we can help.”

  He heard a thump and wondered if she had closed her laptop. “The vested interests that stand to lose a lot of money if we are successful are actively raising new obstacles and objections,” she said. “But we are so close to being allowed to prove our claims. I’m deeply grateful for the church’s offer. We’re going to need all the advocates possible to counter the misleading fearmongering we will face. My biggest fear is our opposition will stoop to use any avenue to discredit our work or intentions. That surely includes trying to dig up dirt on the project leadership that they can spin and twist to sabotage decades of development. They are not being passive about it—it’s an active threat. Several of our staff have reported that they are under occasional surveillance and they suspect that their cars and homes have been quietly searched. I have security cameras all over the place here and at the research center, using multiple monitoring services. Our IT security team reports regular attempts to break into our digital data archives, we believe to either delete or corrupt our work or introduce erroneous test data. We are backing up our data daily and to separate locations, being as cautious as possible. It is quite unsettling to say the least. I change my email password almost daily these days and still am very careful of what I communicate electronically.”

  “Be careful, we are praying for you. The world needs what you are developing.”

  “Thank you, Emilio. I appreciate that. We are concerned, but very determined. The potential is too great.”

  “I agree. There’s one more thing, you need to know, however. If Nicolo ever wants to find you, he will leave no stone unturned in doing it. He’s an extraordinarily gifted man, aided by an equally talented and courageous woman. Nothing will stop them.”

  She hesitated, perhaps considering the magnitude of that statement. “Does he have any reason to seek me out?”

  “There are always reasons.”

  A long moment of silence passed before she spoke again. “Then I’ll be prepared, as much as that is possible. If he does look me up, I hope it’s after we’ve proven our claims.” After another awkward pause, she spoke. “I wish them both great happiness. I really do. He deserves all the joy and contentment in the world. I will always regret my decision, but that’s my cross to bear. It would be most difficult to share that with him.”

  He thought carefully before he offered some advice. “Be wary of holding secrets and guilt too close. They destroy lives, as you well know. May God help you find a way to your own peace. Be open to His guidance and assistance, no matter how unusual it seems.”

  He could almost see her wry smile. “Good advice, Cardinal. But forgiving is hard when the sin is great and the soul is too damaged. However, I’ll try.”

  “No soul is too damaged for God,” he assured her. “Godspeed and good luck.”

  He was about to hang up when she spoke softly. “Wait, Emilio. May I ask you one more favor? From time to time, would you occasionally let me know how he—they—are doing? I don’t know
anything about being a mother, but I love him in my own way. I often wish things had been different. While I don’t deserve it, I would still like to hear about his life from someone who knows him like you do.”

  Emilio felt a twinge of sadness. “Of course. May I offer one more suggestion? Tomorrow is a new day. You’ve expended a great deal of energy to make amends for your mistakes.”

  “There isn’t enough energy to make up for what I’ve done. You know that.”

  He sighed. “You sound a great deal like your son.”

  “I’d never wish this guilt on him.” She paused a moment, perhaps collecting herself. “It was good to see you the other day, Emilio. It had been far too long. I wish we would have had more time to talk. But I appreciate you keeping me informed.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? Just remember, all things are possible through God.”

  “Not all things.” She paused. “Even God can’t change the past. Anyway, the way things are going, we really need all the help we can get. Tell the pope we are counting on his prayers.”

  “You’re already in them, but I’ll mention it again for good measure. Just stay safe.”

  “I fully intend to do that. Goodbye, Emilio. Until we speak again.”

  “Until we speak again.”

  After he hung up, he sat for a long minute, staring at the picture of Cristian Descantes that hung on his wall. He let out a breath as his fingers rolled the rosary.

  “Cristian, my friend, I beg for your intercession. Please send her the wisdom and guidance she needs. Pray for us all.”

  It wasn’t an answer, but the flame on the votive candle below Cristian’s photograph seemed to flicker with renewed life. He wouldn’t be so bold to call it a sign, but he could call it hope.

  For now, that was all they had.

  * * *

  For more books by Julie Moffett, visit her website at www.juliemoffett.com